I remember the night he asked me out, because I was crying.
it was unplanned and ineloquent; I was shaking and he was pulling Band-Aids from beneath cupboards, and he leaned forward and said, “will you be my boyfriend?”
and not to say that I don’t go speechless but I’ve often got too many things to say and this time I had none; because not only had the pathway from my brain to my mouth been cut off but I’d entirely short circuited from top to bottom, and I remember thinking, could he have picked a worse time?
but i remember the way that he said, “now you’ve seen me at my worst, so you can have me at my best.” and how beautiful it was to be ugly with someone else, and still love them for all that they were. not despite their flaws, but partially because of them.
i remember saying yes, as though i had been waiting lifetimes to. as though he’d turned an awful day into a perfect one, as though we were pinky swearing before they’d become the rotten apples in a barrel, and our love was sacred and untouched.
i remember laughing through the last of my stray tears as he pressed adhesive to skin.